Snapshots in Time
by carez123
Summary: When a case brings dark secrets from Brennan's time in foster care into the light, she must face repressed memories from a traumatizing event almost 20 years ago in order to solve the case and bring herself and others justice. T for sexual/child abuse.
1. The Body in the Bush

**Snapshots in Time**

**Chapter One: The Body in the Bush**

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><p>It truly was a beautiful day, the sun was shining, the air was warm and not too humid, not too hot, and the breeze was light. It was no surprise that nearly all the picnic tables at the King's Park West local park were occupied by buzzing, happy upper-middle class Virginian families. Gerald and his family, including their German Sheppard, Tucker, had decided to make the short trek from their Gainsborough Drive home out to the park. Now he sat back at the picnic table with his wife Janet, and the older of his two sons, Colby. He and Janet conversed comfortably while Colby sat, curled in on himself at the end of the table, eyes completely focused on the screen of his PS3. Their younger boy, Jackson, was playing fetch with Tucker not far from them.<p>

"Geeze, Cole, would you put that thing down for two seconds and enjoy yourself?" Gerald asked his teenage son, annoyed.

Colby muttered something, probably something Gerald didn't want to hear.

"What was that?" Gerald asked, his temper rising.

"I _said_, I am enjoying myself." Colby shot him a small glare.

"With _that _contraption? Give me that thing." He reached over and snatched the electronic device from his son's grasp.

"Dad—" Colby's protests were cut off by Jackson's piercing scream. The three sitting at the table were up in a flash, rushing through the lining of bush and trees that separated the creek from the rest of the park, where they knew Jackson and Tucker were.

"What is it, Jackie?" Janet cried fearfully, reaching for her 8-year-old son. He was on his bottom, wailing, near the bank of the river. He pointed towards a patch of unsettled brush near him, probably misplaced when he stumbled out of it. Janet stayed behind with Jackson, while Colby followed Gerald through the bush to whatever had traumatized the younger boy. What they saw there was a sight neither would soon forget.

Tucker stood there, wagging his tail as if proud of himself. He had something in his mouth, but it was most definitely not a stick. It was what looked like what used to be someone's arm. And before him, forming a barrier between the dog and his masters, was a person. Or, rather, what _used _to be one.

* * *

><p>"You know, Booth, I can carry my own equipment. I'm pregnant, not disabled," forensic anthropologist Dr. Temperance Brennan informed her partner of six years, and more recently, fiancée, FBI Special Agent Seeley Booth, with an annoyed huff. Brennan was a little over three months pregnant.<p>

"Yeah, I know that, Bones, but I'm still gonna do nice things for you, like open the door for you and carry your bag. I'm your fiancée, and I don't care what anybody says, in my eyes, chivalry is not dead."

"What? Booth, chivalry is a way of life, not a living thing. Therefore, it cannot die."

"You know what, Bones, never mind. So, what do you think, Cam?" He asked as the pair approached forensic pathologist Dr. Camille Saroyan, head of the Forensics Division of the Medico-Legal Lab at the Jeffersonian Institute in Washington, DC. Currently they were in the small northern-Virginia suburb of King's Park West, in Fairfax County. The body Cam was kneeling next to now was discovered by a young boy and his dog in Leeslyvania State Park, a small state park at the center of King's Park West. That was where they were now. To their right was the lazily-flowing Leeslyvania Creek. To their left was a dead body.

"Too little flesh for me here, although lividity suggests the victim was killed elsewhere and dumped here. Decomp rate suggests four to six months," she informed them.

"Zygomatic arch and high nasal roots indicate Caucasian, occipital bones indicate male, pubic surface suggests somewhere between the ages of fifteen and eighteen, about one hundred-eighty centimeters." Brennan was now kneeling next to the remains, pointing to the areas she mentioned. Booth stood by, wary of Brennan leaning too close to remains. When she went a little too far, Booth caught her by the shoulder, pulling her to her feet.

Agent Shaw, who'd joined the group in the middle of Brennan's lecture, asked, "What was that in English?"

"White teenage boy, about five-foot-eleven," Booth supplied.

Shaw sighed a bit. "Right. Does it take a while to get used to the scientific garble?"

"Oh yeah. I'd be lost too, if I hadn't have been stuck with these squints for the last six years."

"Oh, hush, Booth. You love us," Cam scolded lightly, smiling.

"Especially me," Brennan added, looking as if this were the first time any of them had been aware of this.

Booth rolled his eyes good-naturedly. "Yeah, true as that is, one last question—what is that arm doing separate from the rest of the body?" He pointed over the remains to the victim's left arm, which was lying a few feet away from the rest of him.

"Oh, that. Apparently the dog that belonged to the little boy who found the remains wanted to play fetch with it," Cam answered.

Booth grimaced. "Alright," he called, raising his voice to the nearby FBI techs. "We're gonna want soil samples, nearby vegetation, any animals that might've snacked on the vic, and the remains—preserved, _carefully_—shipped back the Jeffersonian!"

"I think they understand what needs to be done by now, Booth, they have been at it for six years," Brennan told him, walking briskly past him back towards his SUV.

"Well you're the one that's always bugging them to get it right so they don't 'compromise evidence', even though they were trained by the FBI _not to—_"

"Except they do, Booth…" The partner's bickering continued as they moved out of earshot, leaving behind a bemused Cam and a slightly confused Shaw.

"Why do they still argue like that if they're in love now?" Shaw asked the pathologist.

"Well, they might not admit it, but they've been in love for the past six years and it hasn't stopped them before," Cam answered with a smile before preparing to leave the crime scene herself.

Shaw nodded acknowledgement, even though they both knew she didn't fully understand.

But then, who would?

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><p><strong>Author's Note: This is just a start, it's going to get much more interesting, I promise. Anyways, what do you think? Love it? Hate it? Want to kiss your screen and praise the Lord in reaction to my literary genius? Have the urge to pick up your computer moniterlaptop and chuck it across the room in rage and disgust (let's hope not)? I want your thoughts, please! Well, that's it for now, since I'm strapped for time. Keep your eyes open for an update sometime soon! Later!**


	2. The Clues in the Boy

**Snapshots in Time**

**Chapter Two: The Clues in the Boy**

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><p>Angela Montenegro, forensic artist and computer specialist at the Jeffersonian put one last final touch on her facial reconstruction, and smiled to herself. She had always been gifted in the ways of art, and she was proud of her hard-earned talent. She stood and took the sketch, placing it in her scanner and scanning it into the computer. Once that was done, she input some data and and ran a cross check between her sketch and the Missing Children's Database. While the computer did its work, Angela crossed her office to her desk, where her cell phone sat. She picked up the device and dialed a number she'd memorized, kind of on accident.<p>

"Hello, Kelly? It's Angela. Yeah, I know this is the third time I've checked in today, but I can't really help it-it's my first day back, and I'm a little frazzled, you know?" Angela managed to get this all out before her and Hodgins' young babysitter, Kelly, could even breathe a word.

"Oh, yeah, no, it's fine. I definitely see where you're coming from," the teenager confirmed.

"Thanks," Angela replied, smiling. "So, how is Michael doing?"

"Oh, he's great. We just got back from a walk in the park, and now we're having lunch, isn't that right Michael?" Kelly switched to her baby-talk voice. Even though Angela didn't know Kelly too well, she recognized it in her. She, and anyone else, for that matter, could probably recognize it in anyone.

"Alright, well, it's almost time for me to let you go here, but before I do, I just want to thank you again for helping us out."

"Of course, Angela, I'm happy to help. Besides, I love babies. Who doesn't, you know?"

Angela smiled. "Yeah. Well, I'm gonna go. I'll see you when Hodgins and I get home from work, okay?"

"Sounds like a plan," Kelly agreed. She hung up first.

Angela sighed a little, then focused her attention on the computer screen. She'd gotten a match-the victim's name was Joshua Gansberg. As she read over his profile, something stuck out at Angela that she knew would interest Brennan. So, she took her results and headed for the forensics platform.

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><p>"Cause of death appears to be a gunshot wound to the temporal bone, but I'll know more once Dr. Edison cleans the bones," Brennan noted, giving her grad student, Dr. Clark Edison, a pointed look.<p>

"I got the tox screen back," Cam announced, "Victim showed high levels of ethanol in his blood stream."

"He was drunk at the time of death?" Brennan questioned.

"I suppose so," she answered. "I also took a look at the contents of his stomach-or what was left of it-and I was able to find trace amounts of what used to be a hot dog, and get this: hay."

"Funny you should mention hay," Hodgins countered, joining them. "I examined the particulates on the victim's clothing, and I saw fertilizer, garden-variety soil, rat and mouse excrement, insect shells, and hay."

"What does this mean, exactly?" Brennan asked him.

"The floor of a barn. The victim was in a barn just before death. And unless he was rolling around on the ground voluntarily-"

"Possibility," Cam interrupted, "The victim was wasted when he died."

"-he put up a fight, and wrestled with his attacker before he was killed."

"Hey, so I identified our vic," Angela declared, joining the lot on the platform. "I did a reconstruction, and got a hit off the Missing Children's Database. Joshua Gansberg, sixteen. He was a foster child living in Glen Allen, Virginia. Went missing five months ago."

"Foster child?" Brennan questioned.

Angela nodded.

Brennan gave a small 'huh'. Booth chose that moment to waltz onto the platform, pausing only to swipe his ID badge. "Hey, so, what do we got?"

"Joshua Gansberg was a foster child who disappeared from his foster home in Glen Allen five months ago," Angela offered. "He was sixteen."

"And wasted, around the time of death," Cam continued. "His blood-alcohol levels were off the charts."

"He was killed by a gunshot wound to the back of the head, execution style," Brennan added.

"In a barn," Hodgins finished. "Or, at least, he struggled with someone in one. My guess is, he was killed in one too."

"Alright, so, now that we have identity. Bones? You comin'?" Booth questioned his partner.

"Of course I'm coming," Brennan replied, already unbuttoning her lab coat. She followed Booth off the platform, and after a quick stop at Brennan's office, the partners were off.

"Isn't Glen Allen, like, two hours away?" Angela questioned.

"Yep," Hodgins confirmed.

"Oh, I am so giving Bren a call once they hit the road," Angela said, smiling deviously.

"Would you mind putting it on speaker?" Cam asked, causing the three to chuckle lightly.

The three crime solvers then proceeded to leave the platform to return to their duties.

Clark, who had been silent the whole time, was left to shake his head in amusement and pack up the remains to deflesh them.

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><p><strong>Author's Note: Another snooze chapter, I know, but we'll get to the good stuff soon enough. I promise. Drop me a review if you love me?<strong>


	3. The Girl in the Photo

**Snapshots in Time**

**Chapter Three: The Girl in the Photo**

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><p>For the first half an hour of the car ride, Brennan was silent, her gaze following the passing scenery out her window. One hand lingered on the slight swell of her stomach.<p>

Booth chanced a glance at her before he returned his eyes to the road. "What're you thinking about?"

"The baby," Brennan answered, looking at him. "I hope it's a girl."

"Why?"

"Because you deserve a little girl to be your princess," was her simple answer.

Booth smiled at this. "Thanks, Bones."

The corner's of Brennan's mouth turned up a bit. "So, what were the foster parents' names again?"

"Uh, David and Kathy Emerson. Currently they have three other foster kids in their care."

Brennan's brow furrowed. "Huh. That name sounds familiar."

"Yeah, well, Joshua Gansberg had one hell of a record - petty theft, assault, underage drinking...maybe that's what got him killed," Booth suggested.

"Yes. Maybe." Brennan returned to her position staring out the window, and Booth understood then that the conversation was over.

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><p>An hour an a half later, Booth turned down a dusty dirt road leading to the Emerson household. Joshua's Missing Children's profile hadn't been quite correct - the Emersons lived in a quiet rural area about ten miles <em>outside <em>of Glen Allen. He pulled up to a large, old two-story farmhouse that looked about twenty years past its prime. The house was situated on a large property, and to the left of it was a large pen with a dozen or so grazing goats and a few fat, brown chickens. There was a stable to the right of the house that contained a skinny chestnut-colored horse and two pigs. There were tobacco fields out to the west.

Just as Booth put the SUV in park, a teenage girl with a large mass of dark brown hair tamed with a single braid down her back exited the house. She had a rusty bucket in hand and was wearing work boots. She paused when she saw them, setting down the bucket and smoothing her hair down with one hand.

Booth shifted his gaze to Brennan, who was asleep against the window. He put a hand on her shoulder and shook lightly.

Brennan lifted her head. "Wha...?"

"Bones we're here. And we've got a greeter." He pointed to the girl. "You need a minute?"

"No, I'm fine," She said, yawning and fixing her disheveled hair.

Booth nodded and got out of the SUV, walking around to the other side to open the door for Brennan. She waited patiently for him and accepted the hand he gave her to get out.

"Hi," the girl said with a pleasant smile as they approached her. "Can I help you with something? You need directions?" Booth didn't let her sharp green eyes fool him, she was most definitely Hispanic in origin, although she had no trace of an accent. No country drawl you'd except from these parts, either. She would've been a pretty girl, the kind Booth had drooled over in high school, if not for her knees-and-elbows body type, her baggy hand-me-downs, the scars riddling the inside of her arms, and her unruly hair.

"Uh, no. FBI, I'm Special Agent Seeley Booth, and this here is my associate Dr. Temperance Brennan with the Jeffersonian Institute in DC. We're here to ask your foster parents, the Emersons, a few questions about one of the kids who used to live here, Joshua Gansberg," Booth replied.

"Dave and Kathy aren't home," the girl said. "Grocery shopping. But you're welcome to come inside and wait; it's awfully hot out here, and I'm sure you folks had a long drive and would appreciate something to drink." She led them onto the porch of the farmhouse and through the front door. Brennan stiffened beside him when they entered the house. She seemed a bit uneasy.

The girl sat them down in the living room and retreated to the kitchen to get them some water. "You alright Bones?" Booth asked his partner.

"Yes, this place is just...it's kind of familiar."

"Strange. So, what's your name, kid?" Booth asked, raising his voice so the girl could hear him.

"Lily," she called back. "Lily Juarez."

"You're not from around here, are you Lily?" Booth asked.

"Nope," she replied, joining them again with two glasses of lemonade. She set them on the coffee table in front of them and sat sown opposite them in an armchair. "My family came to the states from Mexico illegally. We'd been here for two years when one of the guys at my Papi's work decided to recheck his paper work. We were found out, and the rest of my family was deported. They kept me, though, 'cause I was born here. I've been in the system since I was two. And I've been in this place so long, I guess you could say the whole 'southern hospitality' thing has grown on me. Why aren't you asking about Josh?"

"You knew him?" Brennan asked her.

"Yeah, we lived here together before he disappeared. Amanda and Tommy don't though; they only got here two months ago. I thought you wanted to know about Josh?"

"We do, but we can't technically talk to you about him without a parent or guardian present. Amanda and Tommy - who are they?" Booth asked.

"Amanda and Tommy Kaelin, thirteen and seven. They came here from Abingdon, two months ago, like I said...Hey, you said your name was Dr. Brennan, right?" Lily asked, looking at Brennan.

"Oh, I didn't, Booth did." Lily laughed at her response. "Why?"

"Well, since we're basically just killing time here 'till Dave and Kathy get home, I have something I wanna show you. Follow me." Lily stood and left the living room, leaving Booth and Brennan to go with her to a narrow hall between the staircase and the wall of the kitchen. There was a long, thin table against the kitchen wall that was covered in framed photographs

"Is this about Joshua? Because if it is-" Booth began.

"It's not. When I first saw this table and asked about the photos, Kathy told me that she and Dave always make sure to get a picture of every foster kid that comes through here, at least one. They've been taking in kids since they were in their twenties, when they found out Kathy couldn't bear children, so there's more than thirty years worth of pictures here," Lily explained.

Booth picked up a picture at the end of the table. "This is you and Joshua," he said.

"Yeah. We were close, you know, foster kids gotta stick together." She reached around to the back of the table and picked up a picture in a small blue frame. "This was why you looked familiar to me. That's you, isn't it?" She handed the picture to Brennan after addressing her.

In the photograph was a lanky teenage girl with limp, wet brown hair. The girl was was stiff, standing stick straight in a bathing suit. A version of Dave Emerson that looked twenty years younger had his arm around her shoulder. He was in swimming trunks, and behind them was a swimming hole.

What really caught Booth about the picture was the girl's face. Her expression was a look of fear, but beyond that, she looked like a teenage Brennan. She _was _a teenage Brennan.

Booth looked up at his fiancee. Her eyes were locked on the photo. She slowly raised her gaze to meet Booth's.

"Now I know why those names and this place are all so familiar, Booth. I lived here for six months almost twenty years ago. David and Kathy Emerson were my foster parents when I was seventeen."

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><p><strong>Author's Note: Cliffie, I know, you must hate me. But at least you're interested, right? There's more to come, hopefully soon. Review plz?<strong>


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